


A Home To Come Back To

by through_shadows_falling



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: Drug Withdrawal, Fandom Trumps Hate, Fandom Trumps Hate 2020, Hurt/Comfort, Jack Needs a Hug, Multi, OT3, POV Jack Thompson, Peggy and Daniel WILL take care of Jack so help him, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:00:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27083038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: Carter’s eyes narrowed. “Agent Thompson, is something wrong?”Jack tensed. “Of course not. It’s hot in here. You ever think about opening any windows?” He resisted the urge to tug at his starched collar, which suddenly felt way too scratchy and constricting on his throat.Sousa sat forward, brows furrowed. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”Jack waved him off. “I already saw a doc. I’m fine.” Just coming down from a cocktail of drugs I had to be on or the gang would know I was a narc, he didn’t say.[Or, Jack returns from a 4-month-long undercover mission and is determined to get through withdrawal on his own. Peggy and Daniel have other ideas, however...]
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Daniel Sousa/Jack Thompson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 63
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	A Home To Come Back To

**Author's Note:**

> Written for my highest bidder Bobbie! This wasn't initially a fandom I knew well, but after a deep dive, it definitely grew on me and I loved writing this. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Many thanks to my beta Mari for stepping in to help. You're the best!

Jack was pretty sure he could sleep a thousand years, but at least stopping by headquarters first meant he could confirm everyone else was safe. Working undercover for four months had done a number on him—mind, body, and soul—so it would be nice to remember there were decent people in the world, fighting to make it a better place. He just needed one glimpse and then he could collapse in his bed at home, free from the constant paranoia that plagued him during the mission.

Outside the entrance to the SSR, Jack paused to suck in a lungful of air. His stomach cramped with nausea, but he ignored the pangs as he stepped into the building with his head held high. He adopted his usual swagger as he greeted agents with false salutes and wide grins before finally reaching the people he’d found himself missing the most.

Sousa and Carter glanced up when he sauntered in. They were both bent over Sousa’s desk, poring over files. Carter straightened and crossed her arms over her chest while Sousa leaned back in his chair.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” Sousa said. “Looks like you had a rough go of it.”

“A rough go?” Jack laughed, and he hoped it sounded less grating to others than it did to himself. “We  _ all  _ know there’s no other agent who could’ve completed this mission so fast—and so easily.” He winked, then made a show of stretching and yawning. “I just need a little shut-eye. You know, because I’ve been working so hard.”

Carter rolled her eyes, exasperated—Jack’s favorite expression of hers if he was being honest. 

“You know this department doesn’t stop when you’re not here, right,” she said. “We’ve been busy too, solving a number of cases, but you don’t see us bragging about it. Seems humility isn’t one of your  _ many _ skills.”

Jack snickered. Oh yeah, he’d definitely missed this. “Eh, who needs humility when you’ve got natural wit and a charming personality?”

“Interesting word choice,” Sousa said.

Jack grinned, but it faltered when a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. He moved to swipe the drop away and was horrified at how badly his hands shook. Shit. He’d been here too long. The doc had said the symptoms would set in soon, and Jack promised himself he’d be far away when that happened.

Carter’s eyes narrowed. “Agent Thompson, is something wrong?”

Jack tensed. “Of course not. It’s hot in here. You ever think about opening any windows?” He resisted the urge to tug at his starched collar, which suddenly felt way too scratchy and constricting on his throat.

Sousa sat forward, brows furrowed. “Do you need to go to the hospital?”

Jack waved him off. “I already saw a doc. I’m fine.”  _ Just coming down from a cocktail of drugs I had to be on or the gang would know I was a narc _ , he didn’t say. “Well, now that I see you haven’t burned down the place, I’ll be off.” He turned to leave but walked straight into the corner of a desk. Pain shot through him, and he bent over rubbing his thigh. “Shit.  _ Ow _ . Who moved this here?”

When he straightened, he flinched at Carter’s sudden proximity. When had she gotten closer?

“Thompson,” she said, then added more softly, “Jack. Are you really all right?” Worry blossomed in her beautiful eyes, which Jack did not deserve.

He forced a smile. “I’m peachy. Really, it’s nothing. I’m just tired. It was a long four months.” That was the first honest-to-God truth he’d spoken since he arrived. Four months was less than half a year, yet it felt like a decade with how terrified he’d been of having his cover slip and getting a bullet to the brain.

Carter and Sousa exchanged an unreadable look as Jack rallied himself. “Anyways, I guess I’ll see you two bright and early tomorrow.” That seemed awfully optimistic even to him, but he offered a fake hat-tip to try to sell it.

Sousa scoffed. “We better  _ not  _ see your face tomorrow. You just came off an intense mission. You need to rest, relax, recuperate.” He shuffled through some papers on his desk. “I’ll have an agent check in with you in a few days. They’ll bring a doc with them to evaluate you.”

More sweat pooled at the base of Jack’s spine, and all at once, he couldn’t spend another second in front of them, pretending he was well. “Sure, fine, whatever. Good night then.” Without another word, he hastened out of the office.

After a harrowing taxi ride where the driver kept checking his rearview mirror as if afraid Jack would hurl, he arrived at his apartment building. It took several tries for him to unlock the door, as his hands were shaking so badly he could barely hold onto the keys. 

Once inside, he coughed in the stale air and dead quiet of his sparsely furnished space. It was obvious no one had lived there for months (not that Jack spent a lot of time in his apartment before). A thin layer of dust coated everything, and Jack moaned as he remembered there was nothing in the fridge and hardly anything in the cabinets. He’d planned to grocery shop when he got back, but obviously, that was out of the question.

Jack stripped off his clothes, leaving them strewn on the floor as he bee-lined toward the bathroom in nothing but an undershirt and boxers. At the sink, he cranked the knobs and waited a few moments for water to gush out. He washed out the cup he’d left beside his toothbrush, filled it, then drank. Filled it, then drank. Filled it, then drank. He was so  _ thirsty _ .

And then he was on the floor with no memory of getting there. Jack made a pitiful noise, shivering yet unable to move. It was probably for the best, seeing as the abundance of water wasn’t helping dispel his nausea, and despite having not eaten much in the past few days, he was sure he’d vomit in the near future.

There was still a towel draped over the rack, so he yanked it down to use as a poor substitute for a blanket. Of course it didn’t cover all of him, so he curled up as best he could to get under the fabric. Jack snorted at how pathetic he must look, a grown man reduced to whimpering on the bathroom floor. This was worse than a hangover, though, worse than any sickness he’d suffered. But he just had to get through it. The withdrawal was temporary, and if he could sleep, perhaps he’d wake up and feel better.

Unfortunately, sleep seemed far from his grasp as he closed his eyes. Memories assaulted him from all sides, memories of his childhood, the war, and his time with the SSR. Memories of Peggy and Daniel. No,  _ Carter _ and  _ Sousa _ . They were incredible agents, each talented in their own right. God, he’d missed them.

Tears streaked down Jack’s cheeks as a storm of emotions enveloped him. Relief that his mission was over, joy at seeing Carter and Sousa again, dread at how long these symptoms would last, anger at himself for not being strong enough or smart enough to avoid taking drugs in the first place. Except his mission came first right? Didn’t it? He’d done what he was supposed to.

Sometime later—he couldn’t know when seeing as there were no windows in the bathroom—Jack heard voices and knocking at his front door. For a minute he wondered if he was hallucinating. No one came to visit him. But then he recognized them.

“Thompson, open up. We know you’re in there.”

Carter.

“Come on, Jack. We know something’s up.”

Sousa.

Impossibly, they were here. Jack should say something to send them away. Surely they had more important tasks than taking care of his sorry ass. But when he tried to speak, he couldn’t muster his voice aside from a weak groan.

“Thompson, we’re coming in.”

The door creaked open, and Jack giggled to himself. He hadn’t even locked it! Absolute proof he was out of his mind after he’d had to be so careful for so long.

“Oh, Jesus,” came Sousa’s voice and Jack blearily cracked open an eye to witness Sousa hovering over him, a strange sort of fear on his face.

“Mmm,” Jack mumbled.

Sousa crouched down with difficulty, seeing as he had to angle his prosthetic leg to allow the movement. Rough hands patted Jack’s cheeks. “Hey, Jack. Hey, it’s okay. We’re here.”

“Bloody hell,” Peggy said from the doorway, staring down at the both of them. Or well,  _ glaring _ , and mostly at Jack. “You idiot! You should’ve gone to the hospital.” Her tone was clipped, her jaw clenched.

Jack started to shake his head even though he didn’t want to dislodge Sousa’s hands. They were so warm.

“If you try to say you’re fine, I’ll snip your balls off,” Carter snapped.

Sousa huffed. “Yeah, what she said. Why didn’t you say you were sick?”

“’M not sick,” Jack managed.

Carter let out a violent snort. “Right.” She shook her head. “It reeks in here. I’m going to open some windows, and then I’m going to call the doctor.” She stalked out before Jack could protest.

“You’re not gonna win this one,” Sousa said gently. He rearranged himself so he sat more comfortably on the floor, real and fake leg extended. He guided Jack’s head until he was pillowed on his flesh leg. “You don’t look so good, pal.”

Jack could imagine. His whole body ached, and his heart couldn’t decide on a normal rhythm as it beat a sharp staccato in his chest. He shut his eyes and sank into Sousa’s solid presence. Fingers swept through his sweaty hair, and Jack sighed into the touch.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Jack said at last. A fresh breeze wafted in, and Carter’s muffled voice echoed from where she spoke into the phone in his office.

“What, you think we got something better to do?” Sousa’s voice was fond. “We’ve been worried sick about you this whole time. You know that, right? You know we both care about you.”

“But you and Carter…”

“Uh-huh. What about me and Peggy?”

“You’re. You’re together.” 

“Yes.”

Jack’s brain was too foggy to make sense of this conversation. He whined instead, and Sousa laughed. 

“Hey, think you can get up and make it to your bed? I think that’d be a lot more comfortable than down here.”

Jack clutched at Sousa’s leg, hating himself for being so clingy and yet unable to stop.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll come too. Let’s go then.”

The process of moving from the bathroom to his bedroom was long and dizzying. Guilt tore at Jack as Sousa struggled with his leg, but once Sousa was upright, he supported Jack with ease. Somehow they staggered together to his bed and somehow Jack lay horizontally on it beneath the blankets, his head pounding.

Carter breezed in while Sousa situated himself next to Jack on top of the covers. Jack leaned against him, humming in gratitude and trying to ignore Carter’s severe expression.

“Withdrawal,” she said, hands on her hips. Jack cringed.

“Ah,” Sousa said.

“I...I didn’t have a choice.” Jack’s voice was small. He felt like a child, making excuses for naughty behavior.

Carter’s face softened. “I know. But we could’ve helped more if we’d known.” She turned to Sousa. “I’m going to the store to purchase some things, seeing as this place is practically empty. Keep an eye on him, yes?”

“’Course. Oh, and pick up ingredients for soup. I’ll make a batch later.”

Their voices washed over Jack, and before he knew it, he’d fallen asleep.

Later, he woke to the smell of chicken noodle soup and the sound of heels.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Carter said. “Sit up then, love. Drink some tea. It’ll help you feel better.”

“Nuh?” Jack shuffled to obey, his teeth chattering. The bed dipped under Carter’s weight as she sat and offered him a steaming cup of tea.

“Drink. You need fluids.” She watched with a critical gaze as he accepted the drink and sipped slowly. “Daniel said the soup’s almost ready. Think you can stomach it?”

Jack took stock, then nodded. “Probably only a little.”

“Good.”

Silence fell. Jack drank more tea, then set it on the nightstand. “Why are you doing this?” He couldn’t look at Carter.

“I knew you were an idiot, but I didn’t think you were  _ that _ stupid.”

Jack frowned and glanced over just as Carter dipped forward to press lips to his forehead. For a hysterical moment, Jack couldn’t breathe as he wondered whether her lipstick had left a mark. Then his mouth fell open, and he stared at her.

“That was a pretty sight.”

Jack turned to Sousa who leaned in the door jamb, regarding them both with a smile.

Unintelligible sound spilled from Jack’s mouth, perhaps the start of an apology or a question, but then Carter gripped his hand. No,  _ Peggy  _ gripped his hand before reaching out to grab Sousa’s—Daniel’s—until they were all connected. A triangle. Three sides, three angles joined together.

Comprehension dawned. “Oh,” Jack said, feeling a little lightheaded.

“Oh indeed.” Peggy smirked. “We’re glad to have you back.”

Jack’s heart thumped and warmth separate from withdrawal oozed through him, a heady mix that made tears spring to his eyes. He gazed between Peggy and Daniel in awe. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he squeezed Peggy’s hand. “Well, I’m glad to be back.”


End file.
